War of the Swarms
by DaLintyMan
Summary: A fairly standard Zerg-style crossover where the new master of the Swarm is on a obscure planet in Segmentum Obscuris. I will probably re-write it, in time.
1. Arrival

Blackness. That was all he could feel. Strangely, he wasn't even nervous. He even felt… safe. Suddenly, he saw a bright spark in front of him. Somehow, distance didn't seem to matter in this place. "Do you want the power?" Strange, instead of a loud, booming voice, it was rather soft and sibilant. He thought for a moment, remembering prior circumstances. "Yes, I do." And as he faded, the voice chuckled.

It felt like he had been cobbled together and every piece was rejecting the others. Disjointed fragments of speech echoed through his mind, both incomprehensible and lucid. "He's burning up!...finally he's…we are caring for him!" As the pain reduced in intensity and spread, he grumbled: waking up won't be fun, before he lost to the blackness. Again.

Light was going through his eyes long before he realized it. Then he realized: he didn't hurt! Then his mind was buried under the load of their (Their? Wasn't it supposed to be his?) memories. After a period, the images aligned themselves into two separate timelines. The first was a man named Rob Steele, a farmer from Earth. He had had a family of five, several thousand acres, and had been bitten by a rattlesnake. He winced at the feelings in those last hours, and moved on to the next set of memories. A man named Newt, lived on a world named Pharce, and his favorite pastime had been "liberating" food from the garrison of Guardsmen. Guardsmen? Steele's memories gave a helpful hint: Imperial Guardsmen, Hammer of the Imperium. Now, what an Imperium was, he wasn't quite sure. Oh, well, he thought; might as well start. With a groan, as long unused muscles were called to work, he sat up. A girl of maybe 13 years old, wearing the red dress of a Healer put a bowl of water to his lips. While warm and a little stale, it did wet his tongue. When he finished, he laid back down. Then, since he had gained enough strength, he swung out his legs over the edge of the bed and hiked himself upright. The little girl came rushing over and started gesturing widely for him to sit back down, all while speaking in the foreign/familiar language. He moved her aside, and focused on the room. He was standing in a large room, which was located in the local monastery, and had recently been turned into a hospital wing by the monks. Twin rows of beds stretched down the walls, each with a window above the head, and the roughhewn wood was stained…oh. The girl, whose name was Jani, Newt's memories recorded, kept trying to coax him back to his bed, and then finally relented. Walking down the aisle, he saw dozens of illness stricken people, with maybe one in three beds empty. Obviously, one of the frequent plagues had come through and devastated the community. Looking out the door, Newt could see the entire area, from the guild building to the thick walls. As he walked down the street, he saw people who had been Newts friends, but he held his peace. As he left the town, which Rob's memories laughed at, he came under verbal abuse from the guards at the gate. "Hey! I remember you! Oh, you better run coward, or the Enforcers will get you!" The leader of the guard group was a fairly competent man, as well as the son of one of the lesser nobles. Newt ignored them and continued out of the city.

Coming to a clearing, several miles away from the city, he reached into his pocket, and found a lump of something fleshy. It warmed at his touch, and started pulsing. Newt scuffed at the ground, forming a small hole. He dropped the slowly expanding ball in, and covered it in dirt. Within seconds, a cocoon had swallowed up Newt and most of the clearing.

When Newt woke up, it was to a new clearing… and a new body. Looking down at his new form, he couldn't believe it. The most obvious changes were the melee weapons, claws and such. A pair of scythes had formed on his forearms, all four ready for action. His skin itself was now mostly carapace, capable of tanking large amounts of damage. There were also curious protrusions on his shoulders, but he wasn't sure how to fire them. Suddenly, he felt a small bubble of excitement and awe at his feet. Looking down, he saw a roly-poly like larva. While small and insignificant, it had the potential to be so much more. The awe intensified when he picked it up, and then turned to sheer joy. Unable to help himself, Newt laughed. Sending mental probes to the other larva, Newt felt as if there were little projections on the surface of their minds "ball." The projections were almost shaped like DNA, and he scrutinized one. It gave a picture of a small-ish grub with wings and claws. An impulse struck him and he had them become drones. As a dozen armored balloons formed around the large building like thing that had formed, and he eyed it. It looked a bit like a volcano, but one that was covered in forest. If you thought hard, it almost looked like a boulder covered in moss. Its identity was clear. It was a Hatchery, home and birthplace of the Swarms. Then Newt frowned and started to scout the immediate area, to give himself time to think. How had he known that?

A few dozen yards from the clearing was a road. When he found it, he frowned. He was sure that they were much further than that from major roads, but this one was also different, smooth and covered in a dark, bumpy substance. His hearing soon detected a rumble from a ways off and he faded into the undergrowth. The sound got closer, until its source was revealed: an unknown vehicle, tracked, and what looked suspiciously like a turret mounted on top. He could feel the minds of a dozen humans inside the machine, but was puzzled. The rest of the planet didn't have internal combustion engines yet… So where had this come from?

After another hour of exploring, Newt had found a large deposit of metal ore, in the forest and on his side of the road. This would allow work to continue uninterrupted and unobserved. When the drones punched out of their cocoons, Newt immediately had them head to the metal deposit and then had a few take chunks of ore back to the hatchery, while the rest cut down smaller trees and took them back, too. Soon, as Newt had Rob's tendency to economize and cover all of his bases, a small army of drones were slashing and hauling underbrush back to the base, guarded by 14 zerglings. At the base, several buildings had been made, including the Spawning Pool, which had multiple chambers each containing their own unique blend of protein sludge, a quartet of Sunken Colonies providing protection (with strict orders to _not_ attack anything on the road unless the base had already been discovered) and several mutating constructions.

Pounding music flooded the garage. A mechanic's tool whirred in a shrill counterpart to the rhythm. Private O'Nill, of the 9th Highland Regiment, was tapping a pair of pencils as the beat was declining. Must have seen an officer, O'Nill mused. He was surrounded by paper, and had been ordered to sort it all… That night. Thirteen armloads of maps and training reports later, the stacks had reduced to reasonable levels. At his fourteenth, though, a small badge of purple on one of the rolls of paper caught his eye. It was an unfamiliar design, so he set it aside to look at later.


	2. Ambush Predators

Private O'Nill was still puzzling over the stamp he had found on the document when he returned to his barracks. It reminded him of the Inquisition logo, but had a planet in the background, which was topped with a wreath of a plant. He was still studying it when he noticed the title: Project Overmind. The title was the only understandable part of the text, since it was in Low Gothic. He finally slid the document away in his boot, and decided to tell his officer in the morning.

Newt was slightly annoyed. Almost all of the undergrowth had been chopped and hauled, so they needed another source of biomass. Also, they needed a substitute for- Newt's eyes narrowed. The memories of his normal time told him of several towns where they were desperate for food, and would do almost anything for it. And his zerglings had found just the place to retrieve it…

The town of Arboreal was shrouded in forest. Of course, the local trees grew in a few years, and sprouted with insane enthusiasm. Of course, this made it impossible to grow food on site for the loggers, so it had to be carted in. Every week, convoys of a dozen wagons each brought in grain, vegetables and several important tools that had to be replaced up the long trail to the town to support the thousand inhabitants. Of course, the local wildlife has evolved to be extremely competitive, and will often attack the escort of these food trains. Which is why they always had a large contingent of soldiers guarding them.

"D'Arvit! Soldier, watch where you poke that thing!" Sergeant Hall rubbed his back, where an ill-timed turn had poked him with one of the crossbowmen's bolts. As the man apologized, Hall thought: Just glad they decided to put the _pointy_ end at the bottom of the quiver. Turning, Hall shouted to the flanking escorts. "Any signs of hungry critters yet?" The man in charge of the group shouted back through the trees, "Found unusual tracks! Hope that they don't get ideas." Another hundred yards passed, before the flankers called again. "Whatever they were, they ate a Bounding Scorpion without getting severely hurt. Do you think you could send some more squads to support us?"

Newt watched the local people pass by within thirty feet without noticing. Behind him, dozens of Zerglings lay in wait for his orders. Ahead, a hundred more of the vicious little critters lay in wait. Unfortunately, the Swarm still didn't have a source of catalyst to sub in for vespene gas, so no higher strains could be formed. Fortunately, Newt possessed the knowledge of all the Zerg and their enemies, so now most things were instinctual. The first time he had ordered a zergling to do something, it was confused at . After more experimentation, the species had learned how his mind worked, and now could execute his orders with unnatural precision. Maybe, Newt mused, because they are hooked into my conscious.

Hall was uneasy. Usually, there were several attacks by the wildlife by the time they reached the town, but today it was unusually quiet. Not even the calls of the more common creatures. While Bounding Scorpions were not the most deadly opponent here, they were still four feet of chitin covered danger. The claws were capable of cutting through steel, and it, well, bounded along; moving far faster than humans could in this mess. Hall's soldier sense was tingling, and he didn't know why. When the feeling grew to be unbearable, he shouted for the flankers to pull back. This decision would prove to be the tipping point.

Newt's soldiers (even if they were completely will-less, he still thought of them as men) burst from the undergrowth as the flankers turned their backs. The most attentive of the guards heard the slight rustle of grass over carapace, and turned to meet the advance. Two zerglings ganged up on him within seconds of the start. Coming from slightly to the right and left of the man, he put his shield between him and the leftmost one, and blocked the talons of the right one with his sword. Or, at least he tried, and mostly succeeded. Talons capable of tearing through tank armor in time cut clean through the two inch wide sword, but it did deflect those talons a critical six inches. The second zergling tore through the entire length of the metal covered shield, distracting the man from the second attack of its partner. As the man fell, his friends were already dead, being unprepared for the voracious attackers at their backs. In five seconds, the entire side of the convoy was stripped bare.

And that was only the beginning…


	3. Cleaning Up

The screams of dying soldiers echoed through the forest. Sergeant Hall did a flying dismount from the top of the wagon. Falling six feet, he sank into a crouch as he landed. Flashes of movement alerted him to the killers of the flankers. It seemed like an eternity to wait for the animals (although he had started to doubt that mere animals had executed this attack) to emerge from the bushes thirty feet from the road. His mind darted over different things as he waited, like how his brother might be doing in the small village several miles away. He had left promising to come back within a year, with his mandatory blacksmithing apprenticeship done, but hadn't yet mailed home. Then, they emerged with a rush, and Hall's crossbow twanged its deadly noise.

Newt had to admit, these men knew how to use what they had. The fore guard of soldiers had been able to put up a fight, and had done well. Of course, Newt smirked, that was relatively speaking. Only one person had made it back to the main column, and the forty soldiers had killed ten zerglings between them. The remaining soldiers had formed to surround their wagon, and the crossbow men had all climbed into better firing positions. Newt decided a bit of awe was in order, and walked with his host into clear view.

Hall was repulsed. These abominations had either corrupted this soul or simply desecrated the holy human form. He could tell all of the other men agreed, and it angered them to no end. Undoubtedly, this was some warp spawned abomination looking for captives. Standing up, Hall shouted in defiance "For the Emperor!" and launched his bolt at the figure. All of the other soldiers with a ready bolt in their crossbow joined in the volley. Hall was expecting it to at the very least retreat after the poisoned bolts impacted, but was simply stunned that the bolts either bounced off the things skin, or barely stuck in its shell. A moment of silence followed, and then the thing did a very terrifying thing: it laughed. Confusion swept the soldiers, along with the first tastes of fear.

Newt enjoyed the looks on the men's faces. In fact, the one driving the third wagon looked ready to wet himself. Newt raised his hand, and said, in a civil tone, "Now it's my turn." His hand dropped, and a tide of green and brown chitin swept down the road towards the wagons. Now, with about a hundred killing machines sweeping into the clusters of five to twenty soldiers, it was nothing less than a slaughter. Newt saw a group trying to escape, and picked out a very important thing: the leader was the tactless Gate Guard that had insulted him. Some zerglings rounded on them, but Newt waved them off with a thought. This was personal.

The town Newt had come from was named Green River, because every spring the normally muddy brown river turned green as algae bloomed in the new sun. Easily strained out with a net, this algae made very good fertilizer, transforming the area into a patchwork of farmland. The current ruler of the city was one of the Imperial supported rulers of the world, while the local leader was a selfish idiot who thought being noble made you important. His eldest son volunteered for the City Guard, and quickly found out that you could make much more money than your salary in favors if you were careful. While not as physically imposing as most others, he still had enough influence to juggle schedules and other, more lucrative things. Unfortunately, his dad had volunteered him for this "milk run" and now he and his men were running for their lives from some kind of xenos… Or maybe, he shuddered to think of it, Chaos demons. After five minutes of running, he finally called a break. The half dozen soldiers who had escaped with him were some of the newer recruits, and had been stationed in the back to reduce the chances of them becoming "unfortunate statistics." After three minutes, the man who had gone to relieve himself let out a scream, and the others quickly grabbed weapons, and waited for whatever it was to show itself. They didn't have to wait long.

Newt was disgusted. The man he had found hadn't even tried to fight, or even to save himself. He had just frozen after Newt showed himself, only screaming when Newt put dual scythes through his legs. After disposing of the body, Newt walked through the final layer of brush. And proceeded to pay back for everything the idiots had done to his friends over the years. There was barely even any fighting to mention, considering Newt was now augmented more than some Space Marines.

Afterwards, after the wagons had been pulled to the Hive Cluster, his mind wandered back to Rob's memories. He had had a wife, Jo Ann, and three children. His wife had been one of those people that nothing could faze, even in those last hours she had been collected and in control. She had been small, at 5' 5 and a half", not very heavy or strong, but, boy, did she have a sharp tongue! Her lectures could take the hide off even the most obstinate student, because she would find out exactly what the student respected and shift the conversation to that. That, and when trying to find something, she had the mentality of a bulldog. The oldest child had turned 17 the week before his "death," and had recently started building models of little soldiers for his friends. The various men he had made included some of these Imperium men, so… Could there be a connection? Nah, he eventually decided. That would be too unlikely. Of course, he chuckled as he looked down at his form, this kind of allowed all sorts of oddities, in his view.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few months passed, and Newt felt like he could take on whatever this world could throw at him. The newly spawned overlords had been circulating the area, taking in the lay of the land. The world itself had three smaller continents, congregated in the western hemisphere, which were connected by an island and shallow sea in the middle. The island was rather large, being about like Greenland in size, and being host to the local garrison of Eagle soldiers. This was where Newt lived. The western continent was still geologically active, and had multiple volcanoes constantly vomiting metal rich lava onto wide plains of rock. These plains were home to slowly expanding Cyborg factories, which seemed to produce a type of rifle and two types of vehicles en masse. While there were also four major cities in the region, the combined population of this continent was less than 500,000 souls.

The second land mass was liberally sprinkled with villages, towns, and cities. Much of the land was used for agriculture, with miles of grains and thousands of animals. (A/N: What does the Imperium use for beef?) While the population was immensely higher, on the order of four times that of the volcanic region, most of them were tied up on farms after the recent agricultural revolution.

The last continent was truly diverse. A mountain chain went down the length of the land, with its shortest peak at three quarters of Everest. To both the north and south, extremely flat plains allowed for truly massive cities, which were in constant conflict with each other as the nobility of the region fought to grab as much of the land as they can. Newt immediately saw this as a challenge: the armies of the region were battle hardened from years of constant "skirmishing," but the factions were quite fractured. This presented an interesting strategic dilemma: attacking directly would face stiff resistance as the warring factions united against an outside threat, while waiting too long would see them stockpiling men and weapons instead of fighting each other.

New Hive clusters had been formed, underground to preserve the element of surprise, in strategic locations. The two new secret hive clusters were placed under the largest city in the agrarian sector and the small passes (that Newt jokingly named Thermopylae; sadly, Zerg have no sense of humor…) that led to the densely populated continent in the north-west. Each cluster had been set to auto production, with a small set of mining colonies hidden under the mining plains of the western land. Luckily, the gases that were constantly simmering under the surface worked as a viable alternative to vespene gas, and allowed for some truly impressive advances. First, was the creation of dozens of hydralisks, ready to unleash hypersonic spines at a rate of one every four seconds. Second, was the production of several Queens. Newt was surprised by how human they looked, rather like that one gal, oh, Kerrigan. After spawning two, he realized just how powerful they were, drawing on the psychic reserves of every Zerg on the planet. This led to a period of rapid expansion, as thousands of zerglings and dozens of hydralisks were born, ready to lay waste to his enemies.

Newt basked in the presence of thousands of loyal minions, ready to do anything he said. Even better, they had gained intelligence since arrival, allowing them a measure of free will. Even now, in the back of his mind, he could feel the pulse of the colonies: larva morphing, zerglings breathing, and hydralisks hunting. Another thought wormed into his conscious: one of the queens had modified a new strain of 'ling, and wanted to show him it. While this queen, which Newt had named Twilight, didn't have the normal Zerg drive to expand, she was still very helpful.

As Newt walked over to the cluster of evolution chambers that Twilight maintained, he wondered what it was this time. The last strain she finished "engineering" had been rather odd, but a possessed a recognizable niche: that of the modern mortar. A lurker that could throw mini banelings (which Newt still was nervous about, due to their, ah, volatile nature) was an interesting tactic, but currently unnecessary. When the entrance to the fleshy structure opened, Newt ducked inside. Twilight was currently doing the Zerg approximation of sleep, so Newt snapped his fingers to get her attention. While connected to the hive mind, she really wasn't attentive. She slowly stood and gestured at the three, unusually bulky zerglings that were lying on the floor.

"The new strain is an adaptation of the ubiquitous zergling, but able to give ranged support from the integrated spine launcher." Newt could see the zerglings increased body size would cause a small decrease in speed, but skirmisher support would be quite valuable in the coming war. Leaving, he threw a one liner over his shoulder: "Keep up the good work."

Private O'Nill was playing a game of cards with his squad, and was losing horribly. Of course, this was normal for him. His sergeant, Jonas McNealy, was a forgiving one… For the Guard at least. The other ten soldiers were from different townships than the two, and hung around in their own small groups. His home and family had owned a small farm, with about a hundred head of stock and "PRIVATE! GET OFF YOUR BUTT 'CUASE WE'RE GOING ON PATROL!" Thoughts of home cast aside, O'Nill grabbed his lasgun and ran out the door into formation with his squad. Jogging forwards a ways after the headquarters building had been lost in the forest, O'Nill asked "So, what do the gearheads want now? To cry on our shoulders how the locals don't kowtow to them often enough?" McNealy grunted. No, apparently they want patrols around their manufactoriums because they saw some doglike type of critter." He gave a hard look at O'Nill. "And it wasn't mine." The sergeant's Timber Wolf growled, while O'Nill remembered the last time the cogboys had asked for patrols. A pack of the wolf like creatures had attacked several scouts, and the Mechanicum members had nearly wet their collective robes. After losing six soldiers and killing nearly twenty animals, Sergeant McNealy had managed to capture one, and befriended it. Now, it was excessively protective of their squad, to the point of threatening other teams when the weekly rugby matches were held. Now, O'Nill thought grimly, only three miles of walking to go.

While Newt was thankful for his augmentations, sometimes they were really annoying. Occasionally, he would just _itch_, and the half inch of carapace wouldn't let him scratch it. Separated like the armored plates of medieval knights, the carapace was flexible enough to guard fully the articulation points. The two pairs of scythes on his forearms could luckily fold up and out of the way, but he had stabbed himself twice when still unused to them. There were several structures on his collarbones, which he suspected would mature into hydralisk like spine launchers. Suddenly, an alert came in, from one of the mining colonies. A squad of infantry was moving too close to a tunnel opening… And the zerglings were hungry. And they smelled new food.


	5. Chapter 5 New Developments

The land was peaceful, with the sun setting over the mountains to the east. With the calling of the small flying lizards that flitted in-between the rock pillars slowly decreasing as they moved back to their hollows, and the continual growl of gases moving underground, it seemed it would be just another night. But it knew it wouldn't. The cluster of green armored food were making their way to the factories, and right past one of the secondary tunnel exits that Colony M-2/3 had bored out. The zergling, who had recently named himself Naarda as he grew in intelligence and self-will, looked at his pack. Over thirty zerglings were gathered in the small hollow between towers, ready to do whatever necessary. Naarda cocked his head as the changeling following the group overheard the distinctive sound of a tent being put up. Knowing that a tent meant shelter and sleep to the outsiders, he started down the faint trail that had been formed by the hunting parties following game, with the rest of the pack stealthily following.

Aitcheson was disappointed at taking first watch. After a hard slog over some of the most Emperor forsaken terrain around, he would have liked to rest for a while, if not sleep, before having to be on watch. His career mostly consisted of his training and that hunting expedition the Mechanicum had requested they do. His brother had been assigned to guard the food stocks in the Over Lands. Every week, he sent a letter telling Aitcheson how he was doing and the latest activity and gossip. Even nobles apparently had the entire set of human characteristics. Suddenly, it occurred to him that the lizards had gone quiet; and that was usually because they were hiding. Aitcheson stood, and limbered his rifle. The other two sentries saw this and did the same. A faint rustling sound echoed from one of the canyons, followed by silence.

Naarda was impressed by the soldier's senses. Even after traveling over this rough terrain, the sentry still retained the wherewithal to notice the lizards going silent. The rifle he held was a puzzle as the Swarm had never seen anything like it, but Naarda was sure it would be superfluous. With a subconscious command, the ring tightened.

At the prodding of one of the sentries, sergeant McNealy rolled out of his bag and unsheathed his chainsword. "What is it?" he whispered to the man. "I don't know, the lizards just quieted down all of a sudden. Something's probably spooked them." Jonas turned and called back into the tent in a low voice "O'Nill, come on out. We might have hungry company." Within seconds, the trooper had exited the small structure. "What is it, more wolves?" Then the silence was pierced by a ringing screech.

The first creature O'Nill saw was halfway across the open ground before his rifle was in position. When it was, O'Nill wasted no time in pouring concentrated light into his target. The first shot impacted at the base of the right claw, and blasted it clean off. Unfortunately, it kept coming, with an insane amount of speed. His thumb moved of its own volition, clicking the selector lever to full auto while O'Nill muttered a short litany of protection. His second round of shooting took the creature full in the head, burning large craters into its armor. As it crashed to the ground, and kept rolling, O'Nill had switched targets, and hamstrung the things back left leg with a burst of lasfire. A scream of pain, followed by a gurgle, caused O'Nill to whirl around and put another barrage of fire into the creature standing above the body of one of the newer soldiers. Then a fresh wave of weapon fire rang through the camp, and silence. O'Nill wildly looked around, checking for more threats, his body unable to accept that the danger was past. But it was, as every living xenos had moved back from the camp. Sergeant McNealy kicked the body off his sword, while grimacing as the thing's claws dug further into the meat of his left arm and leg. O'Nill did a double check as the three figures emerged from the darkness, followed by several gun servitors. The lead figure moved over to McNealy, and let out a squeal of binary. O'Nill looked around as the remains of the patrol, three others not counting him or the sergeant, emerged from their positions, and walked to the techpriest. Motioning, two servitors grabbed the now unconscious man, and started carrying him away. Slowly, the Guardsmen moved to follow.

Naarda was not pleased. The outsiders had been moments away from being cleaned up, when the heavy gun fire had thundered from the canyon, tearing apart four pack mates in seconds. Not knowing what it was or how many, the pack had turned and ran. Seeing the cyborgs had caused unpleasant memories to surface, about the battles on Aiur, and a small flutter of shame. He should have known of the interlopers coming to the aid of the targets, and moved appropriately. The pack, now cut by a third of their former numbers, flowed down the canyon, then hopped a rock and vanished.

The Hives had changed since even a few months ago. The formerly semi-distinct structures seemed to have been squashed together and fused, forming one giant entity. Newt could even feel its mind, sluggish and complacent as smaller creatures moved away and continued to retrieve ore. No longer normal drones, the Miners had excreted creep to support the new tunnels, and to help keep superheated steam out of them.

The slow evolution of these underground Clusters was driven by necessity, and already the evolutions had taken different paths at each area of the world. The mining colonies were turning into extremely acidic slugs, boring out large tunnels through metal rich rock. Afterwards, these tunnels were used as highways to avoid unwelcome eyes. Near the Eagle base, the two Hives had developed into heavily fortified bunkers, spitting out thousands of new Zerg warriors every day.

Newt was confidant, but a little antsy. The first moves he made would have to be made with great precision, or the ones he was going to manipulate might do something unplanned. The beginning move would be made in, he checked with the half dozen changelings who had been given the mission, about thirty minutes. Resigned, he did an audit of his Swarm. A hundred thousand zerglings were hidden near important locations, ready to swarm the nearest enemies. Following them would be fifteen thousand hydralisks and eight thousand roaches, which were untested as of yet. Fortunately, the carapace of the Zerg had had some improvements to dissipate lasers and force. Thousands of support type units were ready to follow the combat types into battle. Some of the strains in this category were the mortans (lurker variants spitting mini-banelings), mutalisks, scourge, a pair of guardians and broodlords, and some infested terran and banelings to give armor busting support. Newt was quite proud of himself, standing in his bunker HQ, and then the changelings moved. Their mission? To sow division and gain information on the enemies capabilities. The primary target was the blackrobes who everyone seemed to fear. Let's just see who should be feared, Newt chuckled, fending off a twinge of conscious. For the glory of the SWARM!

A/N: I'm actually stumped for original ideas for my Zerg Swarm. If anyone can give me a good, original type of Strain, *commence cheesy TV anchor voice* you can get your own character! Even better, the best one will gain the honor of introducing a new faction to the war! (Just not Chaos. I hate them, and don't want to write their story.)

As you can see, Newt has come up with his own names for the Imperial factions. I think they are pretty descriptive for someone who just met the forces in question. I must extend thanks to Kane, who diligently reviews my work and helps me better this story.


End file.
